Read Online Of Blood and Honey (Fey and the Fallen) by Stina Leicht - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stina Leicht
Ads: Link
done is any better? “I’m serious. You must go.
Now.” “Ma!” Little Moira ran to her from across the churchyard.
Sheila had the rest of the children with her and was tracing her own path through the tombstones. Moira wrapped her arms around Kathleen’s legs, almost toppling her over. Kathleen reached down and straightened the scarf covering Moira’s brown curls. “Were you good for your Aunt Sheila?”
“Yes, Ma. Who was that man?”
As it turned out, Moira wasn’t the only one who’d seen.
Chapter 7
Londonderry/Derry, County Londonderry, Northern Ireland
29 January 1972
The concrete walls of the tenement flat reverberated with the sounds of warring children and clanging pans, the sounds of seven people packed in a cramped space. Four-year-old Jamie and five-year-old Moira sat on the floor, fighting over a rag doll—their matching brown curls the same shade as their mother’s. Little Eileen was unsuccessfully negotiating a truce. In between the screaming Liam heard his Aunt Sheila gossiping with his mother in the kitchen.
The cacophony and the scent of boiling chicken meant home, but Liam couldn’t have felt more alien. He surveyed his half siblings and noticed—not for the first time—that he resembled none of them. The months he had been gone only intensified the feeling of separation. He was weary and wanted nothing more than to sleep; anything to stop the thinking and remembering, but sleep wasn’t an option. The crowded sitting room doubled as his bedroom. In any case, when he did sleep he only dreamed, and he didn’t want to dream either.
He got up from the lumpy couch that served as his bed. When he did his mother appeared, blocking the hall. It was always like that now, as if she were tuned to his every movement. The room became quiet.
“Will you be home for supper?” she asked, her voice fragile. The heat was out again, and she was wearing two sweaters to keep off the chill. She folded her arms across her chest, and then she seemed to reconsider lest he take it as a threat, and instead dropped her arms to her sides.
He had been home from Long Kesh Internment Camp all of two days, and with the exception of the Frontliners who called him a fool for getting caught, everyone treated him like he might break or produce a bomb. Liam wasn’t planning on doing either. He wasn’t about to give anyone an excuse to send him back to Lisburn, and as for breaking… well, he’d done all the breaking he’d ever do in the Kesh.
Even Mary Kate treated him differently, but that wasn’t so bad. She treated him like a hero—and if heroes spent afternoons between Mary Kate’s thighs, even if they went to hell for it, he supposed there were worse fates to be had. “Off for a walk,” Liam lied. The flat’s concrete walls pressed in more than he liked to admit.
“Again?” she asked. “You’ll be careful won’t you? Stay out of trouble?”
“Yes, Ma. I will.” At least as far as soldiers are concerned, he thought. Mary Kate’s father might feel a wee bit different.
“We’re to Mass early tomorrow,” she said. “Your father thought we’d do something nice after. For your birthday. A picnic.”
Patrick Kelly was his stepfather, not his father, and Liam would’ve been willing to wager the idea was not Patrick’s, but Liam had had his fill of confrontations so he let the lie stand. “What about the march?” Liam asked.
“We’ll stay well clear of that. I told you about the Paras. Mrs. Foyle says there are sure to be more soldiers than usual and—” His mother looked away, uncomfortable. “Arrests.”
Feeling tired, Liam stepped outside and rested his back against the closed door with a deep breath. He loved his mother. He did. He hated lying to her and didn’t understand why he did it. That she approved of Mary Kate was obvious, having invited her over for cooking lessons multiple times while he was away. However, he was dead certain his mother wouldn’t think much of how
Now.” “Ma!” Little Moira ran to her from across the churchyard.
Sheila had the rest of the children with her and was tracing her own path through the tombstones. Moira wrapped her arms around Kathleen’s legs, almost toppling her over. Kathleen reached down and straightened the scarf covering Moira’s brown curls. “Were you good for your Aunt Sheila?”
“Yes, Ma. Who was that man?”
As it turned out, Moira wasn’t the only one who’d seen.
Chapter 7
Londonderry/Derry, County Londonderry, Northern Ireland
29 January 1972
The concrete walls of the tenement flat reverberated with the sounds of warring children and clanging pans, the sounds of seven people packed in a cramped space. Four-year-old Jamie and five-year-old Moira sat on the floor, fighting over a rag doll—their matching brown curls the same shade as their mother’s. Little Eileen was unsuccessfully negotiating a truce. In between the screaming Liam heard his Aunt Sheila gossiping with his mother in the kitchen.
The cacophony and the scent of boiling chicken meant home, but Liam couldn’t have felt more alien. He surveyed his half siblings and noticed—not for the first time—that he resembled none of them. The months he had been gone only intensified the feeling of separation. He was weary and wanted nothing more than to sleep; anything to stop the thinking and remembering, but sleep wasn’t an option. The crowded sitting room doubled as his bedroom. In any case, when he did sleep he only dreamed, and he didn’t want to dream either.
He got up from the lumpy couch that served as his bed. When he did his mother appeared, blocking the hall. It was always like that now, as if she were tuned to his every movement. The room became quiet.
“Will you be home for supper?” she asked, her voice fragile. The heat was out again, and she was wearing two sweaters to keep off the chill. She folded her arms across her chest, and then she seemed to reconsider lest he take it as a threat, and instead dropped her arms to her sides.
He had been home from Long Kesh Internment Camp all of two days, and with the exception of the Frontliners who called him a fool for getting caught, everyone treated him like he might break or produce a bomb. Liam wasn’t planning on doing either. He wasn’t about to give anyone an excuse to send him back to Lisburn, and as for breaking… well, he’d done all the breaking he’d ever do in the Kesh.
Even Mary Kate treated him differently, but that wasn’t so bad. She treated him like a hero—and if heroes spent afternoons between Mary Kate’s thighs, even if they went to hell for it, he supposed there were worse fates to be had. “Off for a walk,” Liam lied. The flat’s concrete walls pressed in more than he liked to admit.
“Again?” she asked. “You’ll be careful won’t you? Stay out of trouble?”
“Yes, Ma. I will.” At least as far as soldiers are concerned, he thought. Mary Kate’s father might feel a wee bit different.
“We’re to Mass early tomorrow,” she said. “Your father thought we’d do something nice after. For your birthday. A picnic.”
Patrick Kelly was his stepfather, not his father, and Liam would’ve been willing to wager the idea was not Patrick’s, but Liam had had his fill of confrontations so he let the lie stand. “What about the march?” Liam asked.
“We’ll stay well clear of that. I told you about the Paras. Mrs. Foyle says there are sure to be more soldiers than usual and—” His mother looked away, uncomfortable. “Arrests.”
Feeling tired, Liam stepped outside and rested his back against the closed door with a deep breath. He loved his mother. He did. He hated lying to her and didn’t understand why he did it. That she approved of Mary Kate was obvious, having invited her over for cooking lessons multiple times while he was away. However, he was dead certain his mother wouldn’t think much of how
Similar Books
